


Behind Closed Doors

by HoopyFrood



Series: Possibilities [3]
Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Clothed Sex, Come Shot, Light Bondage, M/M, Partial Nudity, Porn with Feelings, Psychopaths In Love, Riding, Some Plot, Topping from the Bottom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-23
Updated: 2016-11-23
Packaged: 2018-09-01 14:03:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8627377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HoopyFrood/pseuds/HoopyFrood
Summary: They’re Penguin and the Riddler to everyone but each other.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so, the premise here is that Oswald and Ed wholeheartedly agree that love is a weakness. It can and will be used against you. But only when other people know about it. Other than that it’s pure porn. Enjoy!

They’ve perfected the art of polite disinterest; sometimes colleagues, never friends. Brief interactions peppered with the odd handshake that never lingers. Distant, is what people assume. The two of them used to be so _close_ once upon a time, they whisper.

“Penguin,” Ed will say, his usual brand of humour colouring his tone.

“Riddler,” Oswald will return, seemingly already bored with the whole conversation.

It’s easy to fall into. Scripted, almost. Because that’s exactly what it is. A script. 

A gun still in its holster clatters to the ground, quickly followed by a knife and umbrella. Shoes squeak against the floor. Soft sighs, the rustle of clothing; it’s all loud in the otherwise silent hallway. Ed presses Oswald into the wall, hitching him up by his backside until he can fit a thigh between his legs. Oswald scrabbles for purchase, fingers digging into his shoulder blades, desperate to hang on.

“Ed,” Oswald mumbles against his mouth. “Eddie,” he insists after he gets no reply, yanking sharply at the short hairs at the base of Ed’s neck.

“What?” Ed pulls back and says with annoyance, eyes darting all over Oswald's face, trying to guess what's wrong. He’s gone rigid under Oswald’s touch.

Oswald laughs at his ruffled hair, sticking up skywards from where he had slid his glasses onto the top of his head only a few minutes ago, just like he always does before kissing Oswald. “Slow down, we’ve got all night.”

“I know, but I’ve just missed you so much,” he says, relaxing once more, and thumbs Oswald’s bottom lip, smirking when Oswald nips it playfully.

“And I’ve missed you,” he counters, and presses a sweet peck to the underside of Ed’s jaw. “But let’s get a little more comfortable, okay?”

He tugs him through the darkness of the manor, stopping once or twice to let him run into his back purely to feel Ed’s chest pressed up against him. Ed’s ready for it the third time, sweeping Oswald up into a spin that surprises delighted laughter out of him. It takes them a little longer than normal to reach Oswald’s room, too caught up in each other to truly rush.

Once inside, Oswald goes up on his tip toes, arms snaking round Ed’s neck to bring him down the rest of the way. The kiss is slow and wet, and when Oswald drops back down to his own height, his lips are stained an obscene red. He puts both hands against Ed’s chest and sweetly looks up at him through his eyelashes before pushing him backwards to fall onto the bed with a thump. Ed watches from his sprawl as Oswald removes his blazer, quickly followed by his waistcoat. One of Ed’s hands drifts down to his crotch and he palms the prominent bulge straining through his trousers.

Oswald slides his tie out of its knot, letting the silk slither through his fingers, and quirks an eyebrow. “Ah, ah, none of that,” he scolds. “Against the pillows, arms up, crossed at the wrists,” he instructs.

Ed quickly shucks off his shoes and shuffles up the bed, doing just as Oswald has said, arms high above him. Oswald wraps his tie around Ed’s wrists, securing them tightly to the wooden beam that forms the headboard of the bed. He gives them an experimental tug and grins widely up at Oswald when they don’t budge. Oswald removes his glasses and puts them gently to the side before joining Ed on the bed.

He runs his hands up Ed’s long legs, pushing them a part, and delicately trails his fingers over the tented fabric, making Ed hiss, as he starts to unbuckle his belt. He lifts his hips to help Oswald slide his trousers down. Bracing himself on Ed’s thighs, he mouths at the length silhouetted through the thin material of his boxers, sucking slightly to turn the soft blue dark. Goosebumps prickle Ed’s skin and the muscles under Oswald’s hands twitch.

“S-shit,” Ed stutters, hips rising to push himself more firmly against Oswald’s lips.

Oswald smiles, enjoying the familiar warmth and scent that is so distinctly Ed. He follows the outline of his cock to where pre-come is already seeping through the fabric and flattens his tongue against it, eager to taste. Oswald slips his fingers under the waistband of his boxers and slowly peels them down inch by inch until Ed’s cock springs free. He grips him at the base and darts out his tongue, pressing the tip deep into the slit, before gently suckling the head past his lips.

Ed bucks up suddenly only for Oswald to push him back down with a firm hand on his hip, taking him in further past his lips.

“I want to touch you so bad,” Ed groans, his fingers flexing uselessly, desperate to slide them into Oswald’s hair and force him down until he hits the back of his throat.

Oswald lets Ed slip from his mouth until only his breath caresses the heated skin. 

“And you will, when I’m done,” he says cheekily and noses down the silky flesh, following the vein on the underside until he reaches his balls. He lavishes attention on them, swirling his tongue round one then the other as he cards his fingers through the thatch of hair at the base of Ed’s cock. Abruptly, he sits back on his haunches, briefly admiring the view with an adoring smile, before clambering off the bed. 

Ed is immediately hit with the chill of the room, the touch of Oswald’s fingers and lips ghosting away.

“Where are you going?” Ed whines, hungrily following his movements as Oswald steps out of his shoes and shimmies off his trousers. He goes to the bedside cabinet and roots around in it, movements shaky and uneven. His white shirt lays open, the untucked tails gently brushing his thighs. Ed cock aches at the sight, jumping against his stomach when Oswald _finally_ wriggles out of his own underwear, his cock straining upwards, dark against his otherwise pale skin.

Oswald rolls his eyes and waves a tube of lube in the air. “Calm down, you silly, impatient man.”

He swings a leg over Ed and settles down on his lap so his cock is nestled just under Oswald’s arse, jutting up in between the crease. He squirts some lube onto two fingers, slicking them up nicely, before leaning forward over Ed and licking into his mouth as his hand disappears down between his own thighs. Ed greedily drinks down the resulting groan.

“The things you do to me,” he rumbles, catching Oswald’s bottom lip between his teeth.

Oswald chuckles breathlessly, slowly opening himself up, whilst making sure to brush his knuckles teasingly against Ed’s neglected cock.

“Okay, okay,” he says under his breath as if trying to simultaneously calm himself down and psych himself up. “Ready?”

“Always.”

Oswald reaches behind him and briefly runs his slick hand up and down Ed’s entire length a couple of times, the touch far too brief to be anything but enough. Once satisfied, he lifts himself up and gently guides Ed into him. Oswald bites down on his tongue as he feels the tip of Ed’s cock nudge inside the tight ring of muscle. He breathes in heavily, trying to calm his heart rate down, it pounding loudly in his ears.

“God, you’re perfect,” Ed rambles, watching as Oswald sinks down, enveloping him in heat until he’s fully seated. “So perfect. Too good for me.”

He braces a hand on Ed’s still clothed chest, fingers curling into his lapel, as a flush starts to creep down his neck and over the skin exposed between the two halves of his open shirt. His eyes are a bright, bright blue against the slightly smudged black of his eyeliner, and the light freckles that dust his nose stand out starkly.

He rolls his rips forward experimentally, a small gasp merging seamlessly into a pleased moan, back arching. “Oh, _Ed_.”

He puts his weight onto his knees and pushes up, almost letting Ed slip out of him completely before dropping back down with force that has them both gasping. He starts a rhythm, grinding down to meet Ed’s shallow thrusts, his cock bobbing between them, leaving small trails of come over his stomach. He sticks two fingers in his mouth, hooking them over his teeth, before trailing saliva down his chin and rubbing over a nipple, leaving it glistening as he smooths further down his stomach to grip himself. There’s a new scar cut into his side, ragged and still pink. Ed will have to ask him about it later.

“Tell me how it feels,” Ed’s voice cracks. “I need you to tell me, Os.”

“So good, you feel so good,” he replies in a wobbly voice, taking Ed deeper and deeper, slim hips rocking forward. Ed so desperately wants to grab them and pull him down onto him. Needs to. He can’t hold back any longer.

“Oswald, _please_ ,” he growls. Oswald nods and fumbles at the knot that had tightened at Ed’s wrists. His fingers feel thick and useless but he finally loosens it, the silk slinking away behind the bed as it falls.

Ed surges up and catches Oswald’s face between his hands, kissing him deeply. It’s inelegant, mouths merely gliding off each other in haste. He flips them over, palm immediately finding the thigh of Oswald’s good leg and sliding it up to under his knee to push it closer to his chest, before driving back into him.

“Oh, God, oh, fuck,” Oswald sobs. He works himself to the time of Ed’s thrusts, head thrown back against the pile of pillows, inky strands of hair framing his face.

“You like that?” Ed pants, forehead touching Oswald’s.

“Hmm, harder,” he urges and Ed happily obliges.

He grips Oswald by the back of his hair and pulls, making him lift off the bed and up towards him. He sucks at his neck, tonguing his Adam’s apple and biting down on his collar bone, as he thumbs the stiff peak of a nipple, turning the soft pink into a dark hue before latching onto that too, rolling it between his teeth. Oswald responds by clawing at his arse, trailing his nails across the skin and leaving little red welts in his wake.

“Eddie,” Oswald whines. “I’m close.”

“Me too,” he replies, thrusts losing their rhythm as he nears the edge.

Oswald manages to find one of Ed’s hands and brings it up to his neck. Ed squeezes the already bruised and bitten flesh of Oswald's throat, his nails leaving little crescent moon shape indents, the flushed skin turning white at the pressure. He pulls out, Oswald whimpering at the loss, and shifts up his chest, knees on either side of Oswald’s shoulders. He holds Oswald firmly down by the throat and jerks himself off over his face, the first few strings of white that arch out clinging to his cheeks, a few stray drops hitting his eyelashes, clumping them together. Oswald opens his mouth, ready to catch the rest with his tongue, holding Ed in place in front of him with one hand whilst the other brings himself to the edge with the other. His eyes slide close in bliss at the taste and Ed feels his throat bob underneath his tight grip, both riding their orgasms out together.

Ed tries to catch his breath, eyes drinking in the sight of Oswald beneath him. He’s a mess. Face covered in come, stomach and thighs covered by the feel of it, too, shirt sticking to shining skin. Ed gives his throat one last squeeze before finally letting go and flopping down on top of him. Oswald weakly laughs and presses an exhausted kiss to his temple.

“Leg?” Ed asks, lips skirting the shell of his ear.

“Fine,” Oswald responds warmly.

“Really?”

“Yes, Ed,” he says with faux exasperation, always secretly pleased by the attention and concern. 

Ed rolls off, taking Oswald with him so he’s nestled in his arms. He’s sweating, never having fully gotten rid of his own shirt and waistcoat. Stains mar the expensive fabric, but he’s too content to move, limbs heavy. Oswald rubs his face against Ed’s chest, wiping off what has yet to start drying and Ed snorts.

“You’re staying till morning, yes?” Oswald says, voice muffled.

Ed noses the top of his head and breathes in deeply.

“Of course,” he soothes. “Now, tell me who gave you that scar so I can _gut_ them for you.”

Tomorrow night there’s a raid planned, Penguin and the Riddler grudgingly joining forces, and people will continue to wonder what drove them apart.


End file.
